


Projecting

by Ozymanreis



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Asylum, Asylum scene, Controlled Jim, Crazy Jim, Hurt And Some Comfort, Insanity, Loss of Control, M/M, Mind Palace, Post-His Last Vow, Sheriarty - Freeform, loss of reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymanreis/pseuds/Ozymanreis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh please." Jim nods to his other self. "You know <i> that's</i> not me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Projecting

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #12: Insanity

"I didn't want to do this to you." Sherlock says, closing the door behind him, the cushioning encasing the walls fitting snugly back into place. 

"Talk is cheap, Sherly." Moriarty spits, curled up on the ground, squirming to get up to greet his visitor. But it's difficult to perform graceful movements when your arms are bound to your back in a straight jacket.

"Do you want that off?" 

"Well _duh_ ," Jim snarls, getting on his feet, "But don't. This humiliation is bad enough, I don't need your _pity_. Especially when I'm _you_."

"Right… well. It seems you've come back. For real." 

"You. Doubted. _Me_?!" Jim shouts, trying to jump at Sherlock, but the chains doing their job of restricting him, hold him in place. 

"You shot yourself _in_ _the_ _head_!" Sherlock says emphatically, "How were you supposed to come back from _that_?!"

"Uhhhh probably because I _faked_ it?"

"Well I didn't consider _that_." Sherlock huffs, " _Obviously_." 

"Don't you sass me." He sighs in exasperation and falls back, letting the wall absorb the shock, sliding to lay on the ground. 

Sherlock isn't sure if he should follow suit, but is again reminded, _this is my mind._ He eases down to the floor, Jim only giving an obligatory look of disgust, "Don't mess up the outfit."

Sherlock nestles his face in the crook of Jim's neck, hooking his arm around his waist, wishing his subconscious had made his straight jacket less scratchy. But he deals with it, _This is all I've wanted… but you'd never let me get this close in real life,_ "I've missed you." 

"Pathetic." Another voice announces, bored. 

Sherlock's head jerks up, "Jim?" 

"I don't see why you're surprised…" A very clean, dignified version of Moriarty was leaning against the padded door to the cell, "It's _your_ mind, after all." 

"Sup, Jimmy?" The chained-Moriarty singsongs, "Been enjoying your time up on the surface?" 

"Eh, it's alright, if you ignore the fact we're still stuck in this idiot's brain." 

"Excuse me." Sherlock bounces back up, "Might we take this somewhere else, Jim?"

"No, no." Westwood-Jim raises his hands in offense, "Whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of other-me." Then he makes a face and leans over to look at the clone in the straight-jacket, "Actually, what should we do about that? I'm thinking I'll be Jim, and you can be… _crazy_ Jim."

"How about _James_?" He rolls his eyes, and looks at Sherlock, "Could you be a dear and reach into Jim's pocket?"

"No, I know how that ends." Sherlock leans against the nearby wall, "Why are _you_ here, Jim?"

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" He scoffs, "I aim to serve." 

"I was already — "

"Oh please." Jim nods to his other self. "You know _that's_ not me." 

"I'm really not." James agrees. 

"Well then who is it?"

" _What_ is it?" Jim corrects.

"What, then?" Sherlock asks, very uncomfortable with being confronted in his own mind. 

"I suspect a projection of your own internal issues." James states, lolling his head around, "And you made me your scapegoat cause you _love me_ and don't want to admit it."

"I don't 'love' _anything_." 

"Then _why_ are you down here spooning with an asylum internee?" Jim asks, hands firmly in his pockets. 

"The lighting _really_ makes my eyes shine." 

"What lighting?!" James flails, "You didn't put windows down here, we're supposedly three stories under ground! And there aren't any bulbs, either."

"Yeah, it just seems to glow…" Jim notes, conjuring an apple from nowhere, "What's up with _that_?" 

"Perhaps my subconscious doesn't quite grip the concept of electrical wiring yet." Sherlock snaps, "But let's get this over with: tell me what I need to know." 

"And what would that be?" 

"How did the _real_ you come back? To save me?"

Jim crosses the room, getting very close to Sherlock, "Why don't you ask him?" 

"Because." Sherlock's heart pounds, slowly realizing the truth, "I'm afraid of what he'll say… if he says anything at all." 

_If he's really alive._

 

* * *

 

Somewhere, outside his head, Sherlock hears another voice, "Sherlock? Sherlock? Love, are you in there?"

Eyes popping open, Sherlock sees him, "Most people knock."

Jim smirks, leaning in dangerously close, "I'm not most people."

Sherlock smiles, but can no longer tell if the consulting criminal is actually sitting in his living room, or if he's stumbled into another daydream. Kissing the criminal with conviction, grasping at his lithe form helplessly, Sherlock decides he doesn't care. Reality has effectively been lost, in favor of his constructed fantasies. 


End file.
